Out of This World

I sat on a small hunk of wood that Kevin had used as a chopping block to make kindling for our blazing fire. The sky was slightly cloudy, but in spots you could make out what was an airplane and what was a star in the night sky. Joe was attempting to tell a scary story about an escaped convict with a hook for a hand. Our eight year old brother, Frankie, would have been able to tell a scarier story. Right about now Frankie would be sleeping with his Webkinz in the safety and security of his bed in our room. Kevin was holding tightly onto the stick he had found to prod the fire.

“Put that stick back into the fire,” Joe said, standing up quickly, resulting in his U.S.A. chair to fall backwards. Kevin was waving the stick in Joe’s direction widely, the end had caught fire.

“Kevin, put the stick out,” I sighed, casting my gaze back towards the murky, clouded, sky.

“Listen to the quiet, serious one!” Joe quivered, tripping over his chair as he took a step backward, “You can not ruin this hair or face.”

“You’ll be in your thirties and still have five year old girls crawling all over you,” Kevin laughed, shoving the stick into the fire again.

“Pedophile,” I chuckled, watching a plane flying overhead.

“Whatcha looking at Nick,” Joe asked, squatting in front of me.

“Did you see that?” Kevin asked pointing to the bright streak of light that raced across the sky. Our heads followed the quickly moving spark which crashed to the ground.

“Let’s go get us some space rock,” Joe yelled rushing off in the direction the star had fallen.

“Joe,” Kevin and I yelled after him. He did not even turn his head.

“We better go after him,” I sighed, running in the direction he had left. Kevin had been smart enough to reach for the flashlight that had been in Joe’s chair pocket. After roughly five minutes of almost walking through bushes and spider webs we found Joe standing lifelessly at the edge of a clearing.

“What’s wrong Joe?” Kevin asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. I moved pass my elder brother and just stood in surprise. A small bellow of smoke was slowly working its way towards the sky where the shooting star should have landed. A girl who looked roughly my age lay unconscious in front of us.

“She must’ve just gotten hit by that rock,” Kevin said worriedly as he ran to her side, “Let’s bring her back to camp, maybe we can help her find her camp site when she wakes up.” Joe helped Kevin lift her onto his back while I held the flash light, trying to find the way to our camp site. After walking through a few spider webs, falling into a hole, and tripping over a root we made our way into our campsite.

“I’m glad that mom made us bring that extra sleeping bag,” Joe rambled on.

Something just did not add up. Shooting stars are normally not underneath clouds nor would there be next to no evidence of a collision. There were no other vehicles at the park entrance when we had arrived at six in the evening, so either she arrived on foot or had been dropped off.

“Nick, can you get the extra sleeping bag out,” Kevin asked, “She’s shivering.”

“’Kay,” I said quietly, fiddling with the zipper on the tent.

“She’s kind of cute,” Joe whispered into my ear as I lugged the sleeping back out of the tent and unzipped the edges. As Kevin laid her in the sleeping bag, my eyes gravitated towards her face. Her dark hair hung in waves over her shoulders, contrasting against her silky, pallid skin. She was thin and frail looking, as if she was a china doll.

“How about we sleep out here tonight,” Joe beamed, his voice bringing me back into reality. I quickly zipped the edges closed.

“I’ll grab the other sleeping bags – do not touch me stick,” Kevin belted as he dove into the tent, emerging seconds later with three sleeping bags.

“That was great English Kevin,” I chuckled.

“Me stick be thy shizz,” Kevin proclaimed, ditching the sleeping bags outside of the tent, grabbed the stick and held it high in the air.

“Put the flaming stick of doom down,” Joe said, backing away slightly.

“K2, do you want Frankie to take Joe’s place?” I asked, moving my sleeping bag so my head would be near hers.

“We’d lose all the screaming fans we would have gotten,” Kevin pouted, sticking the ‘flaming stick of doom’ into the fire bucket, “It’s late; I’m going to go to bed.”

“I’m with you on that,” Joe grinned, pulling his sleeping bag from the pile. I slipped into my own with out bothering to change; after all it was almost the end of summer vacation.